March 10, 2004

Dad's Old Chair...

Me and Dad, Carlton Lodge, 1986
Last night, my brother David asked me to send him Dad's last known address, as part of a security clearance procedure for a job application. Thinking about it, and writing the address in an email for Dave brought back feelings of Dad.

Grace warned me not to look into the trunk of the car this morning, but I opened it to get the squeegee to wipe the morning dew off the windsheild, and there it was: Dad's old wheelchair, all folded neatly into a compact bundle. It was the first time I had seen my Dad's old wheelchair in many years.

I was a bit shocked at how much seeing that thing had surprised me. It was like an extension of my Dad for his last few years, and had stood folded up in a room at Grace's father's house since Dad passed away in 1989. I had forgotten all about it.

As Grace drove me in to work today, all I could think about was how much I wanted to hold the handles on the back of the chair again, like back when I would push him down the hall to his dinner.


Grace's father had cleaned it and removed all the old kleenexes and little bits of junk that were still stuffed into the leather "side saddle" pouch that Dad had kept over the side. (How considerate of him...)

Now, the wheelchair is going to a friend so that her dear old Nana can use it. Someone else should get some use from it. It's a good wheelchair.

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